


Between Brothers

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-28
Updated: 2011-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean walks in on Sam.  And decides to give him a few pointers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/profile)[**blindfold_spn**](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/) [prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/3417.html?thread=3716697#t3716697) "Dean walks in on 14-15 year old Sam masturbating and decides to give him some pointers on technique. They end up masturbating together."

Dean crept down the hallway to the closed bedroom door and pressed his ear against it. He knew that Sam was on the other side because Sam had been whining about wanting someplace quiet to do his homework when he’d come home from school so Dean had given him the space. That had been hours ago, though, and Sam had to be getting hungry. Dean had just assumed that Sam had fallen asleep and so he hadn’t disturbed him but now… Dean could hear a quiet whimpering through the door and it sounded like Sam was in pain. Maybe something had happened while Sam was at school? Dean mouthed a curse because, damn it, he hated that he was out of school now. That he didn’t have an excuse to spend the entire day watching over Sam. Dean wouldn’t put it past Sam to get into a fight or something and then try to hide it, pretending that he was just fine.

Praying that it was just Sam having a bad dream or something and not, say, doubled over in pain from a broken rib, Dean quietly opened the door. And froze.

He considered backing right back out again and closing the door but, for some reason, he couldn’t get his body to work. He was stuck staring dumbfounded at Sam, at his fifteen year old baby brother, going to town, yanking on his dick like there was no tomorrow—flushing guiltily and maybe, kind of, sort of, hard, but stuck. At least until Sam fluttered his eyes open and realized that he was no longer alone in the room. “Oh my _God!_ ” Sam shouted, flipping the covers over himself and curling up on his side. “Can’t you fucking knock?”

Dean was still staring at Sam’s now covered crotch, still picturing the way that Sam’s dick had been sliding out of Sam’s big hands. Jesus but his little brother was hung…

He also apparently had no finesse and that inane little fact was what Dean blamed for not leaving immediately. What he blamed for instead rolling his eyes and telling Sam to scoot over because there was just no way that he could let his little brother jerk off without a little bit of technique. Jesus, the kid was fifteen. He ought to know how to handle his own dick by now. Dean had started when he was twelve.

Sam looked scandalized. “What?!”

“I said, ‘scoot over,’ Sammy,” Dean repeated, sitting down on the bed beside Sam. “I’m going to help you out a little.”

Sam’s eyes were about ready to pop out of his head and roll across the room. “What the Hell, Dean?” he demanded, curling the blanket around him like it was some kind of armor and Dean was a crazed rapist or something. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughin’ at you, Sammy,” Dean replied earnestly. He wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t.

Sam frowned suspiciously at him, still clutching the blanket like a lifeline. “Then what are you doing?”

Dean sighed and toed off his boots. That was a damn good question. Just what _did_ he think that he was doing? “What I always do…” he answered, swinging his feet up on the bed and wiggling his toes.

Sam stared at him incredulously. “Showing me how to jerk off?”

“No,” Dean said, “showing you how to do something right. Now stop being a prude.” Dean knew that it wasn’t exactly…normal to do this but he also knew that he didn’t have a freaking clue what normal actually was. And there was a warm little glow in the pit of his stomach, cutting through the nervousness and telling him that this was absolutely the right thing to do, so he was going to go with that. Especially seeing as how Sam had apparently taken Dean’s last words as a challenge and finally stopped trying to cocoon himself in the bedspread.

Sam was still mostly hiding underneath the covers, though, so Dean was going to have to be more creative if he was going to give Sam some useful pointers. With that in mind, he reached down and unzipped his own jeans, trying hard not to listen to the voice inside him that was insinuating that this was what he’d wanted in the first place. That helping Sam develop a bit of technique was just a side bonus. Sam’s gasp, though, when Dean pulled himself out of his boxers, half hard, was reward enough. “W-w-what are you doing?”

Dean closed his eyes and gave himself a precursory stroke, tugging his still partially soft dick into full on hardness. “Giving you some pointers, Sam,” he said. “Now pay attention.” His dick was filling up nicely in his hand—Sam’s wide eyes staring at it not exactly hindering that—and Dean glanced over at Sam. “Now, sometimes all you need is just a good couple of jerks but sometimes, you want to go slow, yeah?” He went silent and waited until Sam met his eyes, wanting an answer. Sam nodded hesitantly. “It’s all about technique, Sam,” Dean said. “All in how you grip it, you know?”

Sam was slowly emerging out of his cocoon, pushing himself upward so that he could get a better look at Dean’s dick. Dean bit his lip and gripped the base of his dick, fighting for control. This always felt better when there was another person in the room, even if he was still doing it himself. “There’s different grips, but I kind of like this one…” His thumb slipped underneath his dick as his fingers wrapped around. “It’s—” his breath hitched in a gasp as his thumb stroked over a sensitive spot. “It’s not about running to the finish line…” Sam was watching him intently and Dean nodded to Sam’s still covered crotch. “Why don’t you try it out, Sammy?” he asked casually. It was a little too casually but it wasn’t as if Dean could be all that subtle right now—not with his dick in his hand.

Sam jumped and thought about it for a few long seconds while Dean licked his lips nervously, wondering if he’d pushed too far. Then Sam nodded and slowly pushed the blanket off of him, baring his lanky, awkward body and the disproportionably large dick that was lying on his stomach. Dean found himself staring, just waiting for Sam to pick it up again and start right back where he’d left off when Dean had first entered the room. Sam carefully mirrored Dean’s grip and began to stroke himself, soft little moans pushing through his clenched lips.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Dean said, breathless. “That’s real good, Sam. Does it feel good?” Sam nodded quickly and took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “That’s great.” Dean let his eyes wander over Sam’s body, taking him all in like he’d never allowed himself to before. “So, uh…sometimes you might want to switch it up a bit…” He swiped his fingers over the head of his cock, just teasing, as the fingers of his other hand moved downward to cup his balls. “Just for a little bit of variety, yeah, Sammy?”

Sam moaned helplessly and squeezed his eyes shut, his legs curling upward. Dean groaned. Jesus. It looked like Sam was ready to… Like he was ready to…

Dean’s own orgasm took him by surprise, wrenching out of him when he was just lightly touching himself. “Holy _shit_ ,” he gasped, shuddering as he came way too soon, his hips jerking upward. His fingers were still on the head of his dick, getting come all over them, but Dean quickly yanked them downward to wrap around his pulsing cock. Damn it…

Sam was sounding like a steam engine beside him, breathing harshly, and just barely holding it together and Dean felt a little bit ashamed that he’d come before his fifteen year old brother. He was supposed to be the experienced one here, not the quick draw. He let himself relax back onto the bed, though, trying to play it off like he’d planned it. He pasted a lazy smile onto his face, reaching into the contentment that was spreading through his body and grinned over at Sam. “See, normally, you take a little bit longer and it feels better, but…” Dean trailed off because he wasn’t sure if Sam was hearing a word he was saying—not with how Sam’s eyes were sealed shut and how his back was arching upward.

Dean shoved himself onto his elbows just in time to see Sam come, see him splatter white against his chest, and watch his body shudder through his orgasm. Sam tossed his head to the side, gasping for air. “Fuck, Sammy…” Dean whispered. He wanted to just lean over that little bit of space in between them and lick up that the come that was beading on Sam’s stomach but he forced himself to remain exactly where he was.

There was no need to freak the kid out. And doing that would be more than just giving Sam some helpful pointers.

Dean ran his eyes up Sam’s scrawny body, over his spent dick and thin chest and all the way to where Sam was blinking at him, still trying to catch his breath, panting quietly. It took Dean two tries to finally find his voice. “How was that?” he asked.

Sam gulped down some air and let himself melt into the pillows. “Good,” he confessed and Dean grinned.

“Told you.”

“Maybe…” Sam’s eyes skittered everywhere but Dean’s face and the kid licked his lips. “Maybe you could…” Pushing down his own nervousness, Dean leaned over more, raising his eyebrows, waiting for Sam to finish his sentence. … _Needing_ Sam to finish his sentence. “…Show me some other things?” Sam finally met Dean’s eyes.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat—felt like Sam was staring right on through him—and he nodded. “Yeah, Sam, sure,” he said, trying to keep his smile below 100 watts, trying to keep himself cool, calm, collected. “Whatever you want.” The little kernel of warmth inside of Dean was growing again.

He knew that it wasn’t exactly normal but he didn’t fucking care—not when Sam was looking at him like Dean had just hung the damn moon. It was just going to be between them, anyway, and nobody had to know. Sam’s fingers trailed tentatively along Dean’s thigh and Dean stretched encouragingly, making Sam a little bit bolder, his hand pressing down more firmly. Making Sam smile shyly up at Dean. It was just between them.

Just like it always was.


End file.
